CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RHETT
Day Ten
Maren sends the petition at eight fifteen.
I sign at eight twenty-two.
Seven minutes is long enough to read my marriage reduced to dates, addresses, accounts, and the statement that the relationship has suffered an irretrievable breakdown.
The phrase is efficient. It does not mention grocery-store flowers, Nora asleep with her cold feet against my legs, or the scar on my thumb from building shelves in her first studio.
It does not mention love.
Courts have no field for love that failed to become shelter.
I return the documents to Maren and copy Tessa because every communication with Nora is routed through witnesses now.
Then I go to therapy.
Sloane reads my face when I sit down. "You signed."
"Does Elena send you legal updates?"
"No. You look like someone removed an organ without anesthesia."
"That seems medically dramatic."
"You are a professional athlete. Drama is your native language."
I tell her about the petition.
"Why did you sign quickly?" she asks.
"Nora asked me to."
"Only that?"
I look at my wedding band.
"I wanted her to see I would not trap her."
"So the signature was communication."
"Everything is communication."
"True. Was it also a test?"
The question offends me because the answer is yes.
Some hidden, ugly part of me hoped Nora would receive the signed pages and discover she did not want them. That she would call. That surrender would become strategy.
"I don't want to manipulate her," I say.
"Wanting not to manipulate someone does not automatically remove manipulation from your behavior."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Act according to your values and tolerate not controlling the interpretation."
I laugh without humor. "That sounds terrible."
"It is unpopular for a reason."
After therapy, I meet Elena and the licensing department.
Nora's photographs have appeared in team promotions, sponsor decks, foundation appeals, and a NorthStar campaign.
Every use was technically permitted under agreements she signed, usually placed in front of her at the last minute, usually unpaid because we shared finances.
Shared finances is generous. I paid the mortgage. Nora paid for everything that made the penthouse a home, maintained her own studio, and covered half the foundation's operating costs until my larger donations arrived at year-end.
I believed I was providing.
I was also benefiting from work I never bothered to price.
"Pay the audit amount," I tell Elena. "Add credit to every digital image. Remove any photograph she does not approve."
"Already underway," she says. "This is not coming from your salary. The organization used the work. The organization pays."
"Good."
"You are not allowed to turn payroll into romance."
"Everyone has become very specific about that."
"Because you are creative when desperate."
At practice, my wrist hurts each time I shoot. The trainer offers to tape it more tightly. Coach watches from the bench.
"You can sit," he says.
"I can play."
"Those are different statements."
"We need the game tomorrow."
"We need you in three rounds."
I want to argue. Captaincy has trained me to confuse endurance with leadership.
I leave the ice ten minutes early.
Lucas follows me into the locker room.
"Are you dying?" he asks.
"No."
"Then why did you listen to medical advice?"
"Therapy."
He recoils. "Horrifying."
We sit at opposite ends of a bench while trainers move around us.
Lucas unwraps his knee brace. "Sloane is good."
I look at him. "You know her?"
"Team psychologist. I am on the team."
"You called her Sloane."
"That is her name."
"You hate everyone by surname."
He tightens the brace. "Do you want to discuss your divorce or invent mine?"
"You're not married."
"Exactly. Very low-conflict divorce."
His expression closes, but not before I see something underneath it. A story for another time.
At the hotel that evening, I make a list.
Not gestures. Costs.
Nora declined Oslo.
Nora rescheduled three exhibitions around playoffs.
Nora photographed sponsor events without invoices.
Nora stopped wearing her ring in public because Damon said fans would notice.
Nora entered our home through private garages.
Nora sat outside frames.
Nora learned my calendar better than I learned hers.
The list fills two pages.
I add another heading.
What repair looks like if she never returns.
Pay what is owed.
Correct credits.
Protect the foundation without controlling it.
Tell the truth when no reward remains.
Do not ask her to shrink again.
I stop there.
Then I turn off my phone, ice my wrist, and let the signed petition remain signed.